


temporize

by Dorminchu



Series: mourning period [2]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I want to get off Mr. Esmail's wild ride, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, No Dialogue, Not A Fix-It, POV First Person, Season/Series 04, Short & Sweet, Sibling Bonding, Spoilers, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 06:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorminchu/pseuds/Dorminchu
Summary: “It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness.”  ― Chuck Palahniuk, DiaryA companion piece of sorts tocutting ties.





	temporize

**Author's Note:**

> In spite of its emotional rough patches, I found Episode 2 to be rather therapeutic.

The anger doesn't dissipate. It just sits there like an unwanted third party. No one is looking at us anymore; Darlene slumps back into the chaise, defeated.

The lights are too bright in here, reflecting off the marble. Coming here was a waste of our time.

It's not a good idea to leave her alone. We'd become even more of a liability that way. Dark Army is waiting for that kind of opportunity.

It won't erase the fact that she's grieving. And I don't want to see her like this, because there's nothing I can do. This kind of raw empathy isn't something I designed him for, so he's quiet. Usually he'd just tell us to get off our collective asses.

I don't want to think about why he isn't talking to me. All I can focus on is the Walkman.

The conversation drifting in through the headphones invites something other than emptiness, and in spite of everything that's happened, I close the distance, try to listen. Trying to parse out the sound of a familiar voice through the ancient speakers—it's been so long, forgotten what we used to sound like—and when I finally hear _her_, it's all that matters.

Of course it would be easier to forget about what's hurting most. The image is always in the back of my mind. But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't nice to hear her voice again.

Didn't realize how cold I was until now. Can't even feel my fingers. Darlene's warm against my side, but I can feel her shivering. Neither of us are dressed for the season.

The best I can do for either of us is take her hand. Her head falls on my shoulder as we continue to listen.

I know she saw my phone. I know that when the tape stops we'll also stop trusting each other. This will probably be the last time I hear Angela's voice. It doesn't really hurt any more or less.


End file.
